


Nargles, Wrackspurts, Oh My

by LadyLanera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: De-Aged Severus Snape, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Re-sorting Fic, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape-centric, snape is married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLanera/pseuds/LadyLanera
Summary: A terrible event befalls Professor Snape and causes him to lose his memories. Headmaster Dumbledore decides to give him a second lease on life in order to fix the mistakes of his past. Snape quickly finds himself befriending Luna Lovegood. Will he ever learn what really happened to him to cause his amnesia?
Kudos: 47





	Nargles, Wrackspurts, Oh My

**Author's Note:**

> This story was based off a prompt about Snape being re-sorted and being friends with Luna. I admit that I've been holding onto this fic for a while now (since January), but I can't recall who provided the prompt to Snapeswidow initially but I do know that it came out of a discussion for the FB group, MIP. Either way, enjoy.

Dark eyes narrowed into slits as he heard the older man speak in front of him. This couldn't be real. Could it? He was fine in Slytherin. He actually excelled in it. Why was the Headmaster asking him to be re-sorted now of all days? For that matter, who even had heard of re-sorting? Weren't these sorts of things set in stone? Good, bad, Slytherin, Gryffindor, etc.

"I'm certain you have questions," murmured the twinkling blue-eyed Headmaster.

Questions? Oh, did he ever! He had a dozen of them ever since he woke in the Hospital Wing.

Frowning, the lanky, dark-haired sixteen-year-old thrust his hands into his pockets, though. He glanced down at the desk, his mind on overdrive.

Where would he even begin?

The start seemed logical enough. But the why was a more pressing question if he were honest.

"Sir?" hesitantly began the young man.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Have I done something wrong to warrant this?"

"Oh, Heavens, no, my boy. You've done— it's nothing of the sort. I assure you."

"Then, why?" He swallowed back his emotions, desperately trying to empty his mind as his mother had taught him to long ago. "No one has ever been re-sorted, Headmaster. No one!"

Headmaster Dumbledore watched for a few moments, scratching his long beard thoughtfully.

"Yes. You are correct in that. No one has before."

"Then why—" Severus cut in only to be interrupted again.

Dumbledore held up a hand, hushing the young man instantly. "Easy, my boy. Please. All will be explained. I promise." Kind blue eyes softened even more into an almost somber look. "Information has come to light concerning your sorting. The Hat believes it made a mistake all those years ago."

"A mistake?" The young man blinked. Nothing about this made sense. It couldn't.

"Yes. I know. I found it surprising as well, but there it is." Dumbledore shrugged dismissively. "It is unfortunately now refusing to sort any others until you are re-sorted, my boy."

"Well, get a new bloody hat then!"

Dumbledore laughed quietly. "I wish it were that simple, but I'm afraid it's not."

"I'm a Slytherin, sir. It's-it's been my House for years! And now you're asking me to . . ."

"I realize how upsetting this is for you."

Severus scoffed, glancing upwards at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. He understood? Really? Yeah, fat lot of that. He had made a home in Slytherin. It was the first time he had actually felt like he belonged. And now supposedly it was all a mistake?

"But this is how it must be, my boy."

"Fine," ground out the sixteen-year-old. Let the old ratty hat re-sort him then. It'd see that he belonged in Slytherin. That it was his _true_ home!

"You'll see this in time as what it is, my boy. I promise."

Dark eyes darted back to the headmaster. "And what's that, sir?"

"A second chance," Dumbledore replied softly. That sad look was back etched into the older wizard's face again. A look the young man couldn't remember ever seeing directed on him before. Though, so many things about this place were different now.

He watched warily as the man pulled the dingy looking hat down from the shelf. When he felt it placed upon his head a moment later, his eyes fluttered closed.

" _Hmm. Severus Snape. Back again, I see."_

He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his sarcastic remark. He wasn't going to give the stupid thing any more ammunition to screw with his life than it already had.

" _Difficult. Very difficult. Like before, but not."_

He blinked in surprise. Like before but not? What the hell did that mean?

" _Ravenclaw!"_

His eyes widened. Ravenclaw? He gasped as the Sorting Hat was removed from his head. No! He was a Slytherin! He—he— _what_?

Dumbledore glanced over his half-moon spectacles at him, waiting.

Severus inhaled shakily, grabbing a hold of the edge of the headmaster's desk.

"It would seem your colors need to be changed, my boy." Dumbledore gave him a gentle, tender smile. He then clapped his hands before he wiggled his fingers.

As the green slowly darkened into blue, so did Severus's mood. He loved that shade of green. It was the color of Lily's eyes. Or close to it at least.

"Now, before you leave, do you recall Madam Pomfrey's talk with you earlier?"

"Yes," respectfully answered the former Slytherin-turned Ravenclaw. "That my memories will come to me in time. That I must not push myself too hard and overdo it."

"Exactly. And that things will most likely be jarring to you at first. You must give it time, though, my boy. All right?"

"Yes, Headmaster," he said, eyes downcast sullenly.

An accident they claimed befell him. When he had asked for more details, Pomfrey had stated that his knowing it would only make matters worse for him. He wasn't certain how things could get much worse than this, though, at this point. And then she explained how everyone he had ever known, all of them, were not here anymore. That they were all gone, distant memories. That his thinking of them like it was yesterday was merely another way of his mind protecting itself. Personally, he found that to be a load of crap, but until he could find out otherwise, he'd believe them. For now at least.

"Good." Blue eyes then sharply glanced at the door when there was a soft knock against it. "Come in."

Severus frowned when he caught Minerva McGonagall's eyes as she stepped inside with Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick following close behind. It was strange not seeing Professor Slughorn, but he supposed the old man had finally decided the old blowhard had collected enough people.

"You asked for us, Albus?" McGonagall said softly, her lips pinched tightly in clear disapproval about something. Probably Severus. She always had it out for him.

"Yes. I did." Dumbledore flashed a kind smile to her before he glanced at the others. "I see Professor Ashmore couldn't join us?"

"She's indisposed at the moment," Minerva answered curtly, "as I'm sure you can understand."

"Ah. Yes." The headmaster winced slightly and inclined his head. He seemed almost ashamed by that for some reason.

The young man found himself trying to recall a Professor Ashmore, but he found nothing. Maybe seeing the woman later would jog his memory.

"I'll inform her of our meeting later when I speak with her, however."

"Thank you, Minerva," the older wizard replied with his eyes not meeting hers. "As you can all see, young Severus here has been re-sorted into Ravenclaw."

"Yes, so we see," she replied neutrally, her eyes darting up at the headmaster.

"Filius, if you could escort him to the common room and help him get settled?"

"Of course, Headmaster," squeaked the Charms professor and Head of Ravenclaw.

Severus bit back a sigh as he was passed off to the man. Even Flitwick seemed older than he had just yesterday. It was a confusing time. Obviously. He slowly followed his new Head of House out of the Headmaster's room. Whatever other questions he had, he'd clearly not get today.

As they made their way through the halls, the young man glanced around from beneath his long, inky-black hair. The entire castle seemed familiar yet different to him. He paused once because he had seen a fiery redhead rush past him, her Gryffindor robes flapping wildly behind him. However, the eyes were different. Not the beautiful green he loved seeing.

They made it to the fifth floor in what had to be record time, he supposed. He stepped up beside Professor Flitwick and waited for the man to open the door. Though, he wasn't certain how that was going to happen, seeing as how there wasn't a knob to turn or hole to stick a key into. Flitwick glanced up at him with an apprehensive smile.

"If you please," the small wizard stated, motioning at the bronze knocker shaped like an eagle.

Severus's shoulders sagged, but he did as the man requested. He reached up and banged the knocker twice against the sturdy wood.

His eyes narrowed when the eagle came to life before him.

"Why is six afraid of seven?" asked the brass eagle in front of him.

Severus's brows furrowed. What? He glanced down at Flitwick and frowned when he noticed that the professor was obviously waiting on his answer. He turned back and sighed inwardly. It was utterly ridiculous, juvenile even. This was his House? Ugh!

"Because seven eight nine," Severus answered seemingly bored.

Flitwick's smile faltered before the wizard muttered something Severus couldn't quite catch. He then motioned the sixteen-year-old inside the now-opened door.

As they walked into the common room, he found himself assaulted with bronze and blue and loads of people he didn't know all staring at him with wide eyes.

"Gather round, please," Flitwick declared as he easily brushed past Severus. The students instantly glanced at him and waited. They all had hesitant nervous looks on their faces.

Well, good. Maybe they'd leave him alone then, and he could just get through this year without any crap for once.

"As you can see, Severus Snape has been sorted into Ravenclaw. I expect all of you to treat him with the utmost respect. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Professor," they all parroted back.

"Excellent." Flitwick's eyes darted to him before he returned to the others. "Furthermore, I expect each and every one of you to make a concerted effort to assist him with settling in. He is one of us now, and we protect our own."

Yeah, and so did Slytherin House. Didn't make that any truer, though. Severus was smart enough not to say it aloud.

"You will all give him space as he adjusts as well. And you will make no mentioning of his accident." The Ravenclaws collectively nodded. "Good." Flitwick then sighed before he motioned to where the dorms likely were. "Your room is up there, Severus. First door on the right."

Realizing he was being effectively dismissed again, he inclined his head and left the room. Thank fuck he had been dismissed. He was tired of being stared at like a lab rat. He may not have remembered the last year much or what his accident had been, but he sure as hell could still kick their asses if need be. He slipped inside the room Flitwick had said was his, closing the door behind him.

His eyes narrowed when the candles around the room lit automatically. It truly was his own room. He wouldn't even have to share it with anyone surprisingly. A small four-poster bed was pushed against the far wall with an end table on the right and a trunk at the foot of his bed. There was even a small cramped desk pushed against the side. A small smile made its way to his lips.

Yes. This would do very well indeed.

His own private sanctuary.

He shrugged off his robes, folding them neatly and setting them atop of his desk. His eyes then caught the small framed photo that he was sure he had never seen before. It was of his mother and father—and they were smiling. They looked, well, older than what he could remember and definitely happier than he could ever recall. His fingers brushed the frame tenderly before he turned away. It'd come to him. Eventually. He just had to be patient.

Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare. He could already see it. But all he had to do was keep his head down. Because maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe this could be a fresh start, a second chance. Maybe he could show Evans that he wasn't the murderous bastard he acted like all the time. After all, who had ever heard of a Death Eater wannabe Ravenclaw?

A moment later, he opened his trunk and pulled out his pajamas. His fingers brushed over the soft material curiously. What had happened to his old pair? He then peered into his trunk and found more seemingly new clothes than he could ever remember having before. His eyes widened.

Where were his things?

This had to be someone else's. It couldn't be his. His stuff was always ratty, threadbare, seemingly from a secondhand shop. This stuff was . . . nice, rich-looking even. Had his parents come into money and he had forgotten it?

He huffed and shook his head. He'd write a letter to his mother tomorrow and ask her about it, he supposed. Though, he just hoped she wasn't crazy enough to send him a Howler back in return.

Wait. Come to think about it. Where was his wand?

Dark eyes darted about the room. He knew it wasn't in his wand holster because he wasn't wearing his wand holster for some reason. He glanced about, feeling his panic start to rise. His wand. He had misplaced his goddamn wand! He had to find it.

A knock against his door, though, quickly jerked him out of his anxiety.

He strode purposefully across the room, ripping open the door. His eyes narrowed when he saw a waist-length, dirty blonde-haired young woman standing on the other side. Her silvery eyes were wide and bright and seemingly dazed almost.

"Yes?" he drawled, glancing down at her. "What is it?"

"Professor Ashmore asked me to give this to you," she replied cheerfully, clearly not put off by his coldness in the slightest. She held out a long black ornate wand that had intricate designs etched into its handle. "She had meant for you to have it in the Hospital Wing, but you had woken up and left before she could arrive."

He glanced at the wand and frowned. That didn't look at all like his wand.

"Is something wrong?" inquired the witch, her eyes somehow growing larger.

"Did she state why she had my wand?" he stated brusquely, glancing at her.

"Well, she is the Head of Slytherin currently, a sudden event I'm sure she wasn't prepared for, and was the first to find you after, so I'd imagine either had a part in it. But I can't be certain which."

He stood up a bit taller, his body rigid. "She found me?"

"Yes." The blonde's smile brightened. "I've never heard her so frustrated with you in my life."

Oh. Great. Another professor who didn't like him. Wonderful. Some things never changed.

"Of course when Nargles are involved—"

"Nargles?" he repeated, blinking slightly. What the hell was a Nargle?

She smiled widely, though. "They're the reason you can't recall anything. I'm certain they'll leave soon enough, though. If you give them time. Actually, I'm working on a charm to dispel them."

"Well, um, I see." Actually, he didn't. Nor did he ever want to as it sounded like this witch was clearly five levels crazier than Bellatrix Black, which was saying something really. She glanced back to the wand that she was still holding out, waiting patiently. He sighed inwardly before he stepped forward and grabbed it.

His fingers curled around the handle tightly as he felt the warmth of his magic flicker to life from the brief connection. It felt . . . different than what he was used to and yet also familiar somehow. He inclined his head to the dishwater blonde before he stepped back.

"Thank you."

"I'll pass it along." She smiled back widely. "Goodbye." She turned away prior to leaving.

Severus sighed heavily in response and closed his door. There wasn't enough time in the world to unravel that mystery. He turned back to his room, his eyes roaming over the bed. He supposed he could rest for a bit. Maybe he'd wake up and all of this was just a terrible dream.

As he crossed his room, he held his arms out instinctively, feeling his clothes be exchanged magically for his pajamas. His head tilted slightly in brief confusion before the smile took over. His magic was stronger now, less chaotic. He could control it easier than usual. Perhaps Dumbledore was right. Perhaps this would be a good thing. He could show everyone who ever doubted him what he could do. Hell, he could probably even teach the Marauders a thing or two the next time their paths crossed.

He slid in between the sheets a moment later, settling in with a content sigh. So far it had been loads better than his previous days at Hogwarts. Time would tell tomorrow if it truly was, though. His eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing slowed as he fell into his deep slumber.

* * *

The next morning, he sat off by himself at breakfast at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. The others seemed content with it just as well. He flipped through his book, frowning at how easy everything seemed. It was almost as if he had already known all of this somehow, which didn't make sense. Potions and Defense, sure, but Transfigurations and Astronomy? Those two were his worst classes typically, and by worst it meant he usually managed a measly Exceeds Expectations out of both classes.

"Hello," a familiar voice said cheerfully with a hint of dreaminess to it.

His dark eyes flickered up at the intruder, and his frown deepened. The blonde girl from last night had returned. He inclined his head to her before he turned his attention back to his book.

"Oh, have you gotten to the section on Human Transfiguration yet?" the young woman asked, sitting down beside him as if they had known each other for years.

He held back his annoyance and glanced back at her. "I have not."

"I think you'll enjoy it. Personally, I found it to be a bit confusing in spots, especially in terms of brewing the Animagus potion, but—"

He sighed heavily, closing his book with a loud crack. He gathered his items quickly.

"If you'll excuse me," he stated briskly and without an ounce of sincerity in his voice.

"Oh. Of course." Her smile widened, clearly oblivious to his annoyance. "But if you want to get rid of the Nargles quicker, I worked more on my charm last night. I'd be willing to test it on you."

Groaning inwardly, he paused and glanced at her. "Nargles?"

"Yes." She nodded. "They're the ones who caused your accident. They stole your memories."

His eyes narrowed on her sharply. Did she know about what had happened? He glanced around the Great Hall before he sighed heavily, wondering just how much brain damage he actually had. He flopped back down onto the bench and pursed his lips.

"You know about my accident?"

She nodded again, her smile faltering slightly. "Some. From what the others are saying at least."

He glanced around again, noting that a few were glancing from their respective tables nervously at him. As if they were expecting him to be an idiot and hex them out in the open.

"It must be frustrating," she remarked quietly.

"Hmm?" he murmured, glancing back at her.

"To have a part of yourself locked away you can't remember. Everything feels so familiar yet it's not. It's like you're living someone else's life." She shrugged as his eyes widened in surprise. She understood perfectly what he was feeling somehow. "And then there's the staring from everyone."

"Yeah." He sighed quietly, glancing down at the table. His fingers brushed the wood silently.

"After awhile, it won't bother you, though." She shrugged. "Or they'll lose interest. It's all too new to them, I think." She gave him a kind smile. "They're not used to seeing you like this after all."

He snorted, a wry smile playing at his lips.

"I'm sure." He then found himself leaning towards her, not knowing why. But he felt lighter inside, less weighed down by the darkness and pain than usual. Maybe it was her Nargles after all. "I'm quite the snarky bastard I'm told." His smile widened slightly when she laughed in response.

"I don't believe that."

"Oh?" He crossed his arms and glanced at her. "Then what?"

"You wear masks more than the average person does. I've always known that, but then I can see through easier than others. Father taught me how to long ago. The others, though, only see the mask of toughness you display. They don't see this side. So, it has them curious, making them stare."

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on a bowl of fruit.

"You've touched a great deal more lives than you will ever know."

"Me?" he repeated, glancing at her in surprise. That couldn't be true. He was invisible to everyone but the Marauders and their Gryffindor gang of bullies.

She smiled back and nodded. "Yes, but that's a story for another time." She then pushed herself up. "Come. We have Transfigurations. I know how much you detest tardiness."

He stared at her for a moment before he gently rested a hand above her elbow. "Are we friends?"

Her smile widened slightly.

"No. But I know when someone shouldn't be alone with Nargles and Wrackspurts."

"What?" he asked with a confused laugh. "Those sound made up."

She stared at him for a few moments before she nodded, deciding on something. "Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not there. After all, people used to believe the Deathly Hallows didn't exist either, and then Harry found them and reunited them."

His brows furrowed. "Harry?" Who the hell was Harry?

She grabbed his arm, though, and tugged him up. "Come on. We're going to be late."

* * *

His first week of classes went by surprisingly fast. He found himself getting easy marks on practically everything, which his professors found amusing for some reason. Even McGonagall seemed pleased with his work. He kept his nose buried in books, choosing to apply himself in more difficult subjects in order to give himself more of a challenge. He knew if he became bored, it wouldn't be good.

So far, he had found himself having a much easier time at Hogwarts. His mum had written him a few times over the week, telling him she was glad he was all right but that if he snogged any witch or did worse, she'd disembowel him. He wasn't quite sure why she had the sudden change of heart nowadays when he last recalled prior to his accident her going on about how he should pursue a relationship with Evans. But he wasn't going to cross her. He wasn't suicidal after all.

Sighing for what had to be the hundredth time since he had entered the library, he found his eyes wandering over to the Restricted Section. His fingers brushed the spine of a rare tome on something he couldn't even recall anymore actually. He could feel his pulse quicken as he considered what it'd take to sneak past Madam Pince. The section had been calling to him for days now.

It wasn't Dark Magic he wanted to read this time, though. He actually found he was more content with practicing Light Magic nowadays. It felt purer. It was Luna's creatures that sent him here.

He paused and glanced about the room quickly. Most of the students had filed out already for supper. Madam Pince was assisting a Hufflepuff near the Potions' section. He had a free path to the gates now if he so chose.

Which he did.

He waved his hand, sending up a wandless silencing charm. He rushed towards the gates, his heart nearly beating out of his chest in anxiety. So many things could go wrong. So many things could go right. He didn't trust his non-verbal, wandless magic the closer he got, so he rotated his wrist, his wand slipping into his hand.

So close.

"Mister Snape!"

His entire body froze in place, his eyes widening at his name being called out. His eyes then closed as he winced. So damn close. He pushed his wand back up into his holster and slowly turned around to the unfamiliar voice.

A dark-haired woman in long, elegant blue robes stared down at him. He was quite sure he hadn't seen her before in his life, and yet . . . he felt as if he had. As if he knew her down to his very soul. Her rich brown eyes narrowed on him before she glanced at the gate behind him.

"The Restricted Section is restricted for a reason. Mind telling me what you wanted in there?" Her voice was low, hushed even.

"I-I don't know." His head hung as he sighed heavily. Merlin, he sounded idiotic.

"Well, when you do, come find me in my tower. I'd imagine you're rather bored with your studies." She stared down at him impassively when he glanced up in surprise.

"Uh, yes, Professor." He then paused, his eyes darting off as he tried to recall her name. It was on the tip of his tongue, as if he had said a million times over the years. He had asked Luna about her the other day at supper as well, which the dishwater had unexpectedly paused at before answering.

"Ashmore," the female professor supplied a beat later, stepping closer but still a respectful distance away. "Professor Ashmore. I teach Astronomy. Something I see you didn't choose this year for your studies." Her words were clipped, as if she was holding back her emotions for some reason. "Naturally, I'll do my best not to be insulted by that of course."

"I apologize if you do," he replied quietly, holding her gaze. "It's only, well, I'm better at Potions, so I saw no need for Astronomy."

She huffed a laugh, forcing her thin smile a bit more. "Personally, I've always been more impressed by your wand work than your potion's skill. But to each their own."

He glanced down instantly, feeling his cheeks flush slightly at her praise.

"Go. You're late to dinner," she stated a moment later, motioning for him to leave. She waited until he had turned before she sighed heavily. "And, Severus?"

"Yes, Professor?" he replied, turning back to her and feeling his heart skip slightly. He felt confused and excited all at once by this beautiful witch in front of him.

"Whatever books you wish from there, merely ask for. Do not sneak about the castle, about this area, like a common thief. You are better than that, and I would be more than happy to procure them for you. Is this understood?"

He nodded, feeling his insides knot. He had disappointed her. He hated disappointing her.

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. You're dismissed."

He turned to leave but found his feet rooted to the floor again. He should do as she said. He knew it, but he also needed to know. He slowly spun back, catching her surprise at his actions.

"Luna said you were the one who found me after my accident."

He watched the warmth in her eyes vanish instantly. She was closing herself off to him for some reason. Had whatever she had seen affected her? He supposed seeing any student badly injured as he supposedly had been was bound to affect a person.

"Did she now?" Professor Ashmore replied calmly, neutrally. "Well, I'm sure Miss Lovegood had a perfectly good reason to tell you that."

"You seem angry that she had."

"Oh, no. Not angry." She forced a quiet laugh, running a hand through her dark curls. The candlelight caught on her ring, sending up glittering colored rays on the walls. She was married then. They were lucky whoever they were. "Just afraid it might set you back on your healing. That's all."

"Why?" he asked. No one had cared about him before his accident. Now, people were almost tripping over themselves with their care. "I'm no one of importance, merely a student of yours. Likely a mediocre one at that."

"Mediocre?" she repeated before she snorted. "Oh, you're many things, Severus Snape." Her eyes regained their easy, familiar warmth as the beautiful smile graced her lips. "But you've never been mediocre in your life." She then sighed heavily. "You should go. You have a half-hour before curfew." Without another word, she turned away from him and left him standing alone in the library.

* * *

"Luna?" he remarked after several hours of silence while they sat in the common room together a few days later. She glanced at him but said nothing. "What do you know about Professor Ashmore?" He caught her smile widen slightly before she closed her book.

"Quite a lot actually."

He waited for the dishwater blonde to elaborate, but when she didn't, he sighed. "And?"

"She makes it a habit to reach out to those at Hogwarts who don't feel like they belong. She'd adopt all of us if given the chance according to her husband."

"So, she's loving?"

"Extremely," Luna replied with a nod. "In fact, if it had not been for her love for her husband, we may have lost him forever." Her eyes fell back to her book before she sighed quietly. "I would imagine that's why she's distant with you sometimes. Because you remind her of him."

"You know her husband?"

"Oh, yes." Luna's smile widened largely. "He was the best Potions Master and Defense against the Dark Arts professor Hogwarts has ever seen." She then tilted her head slightly. "He was just misunderstood. He needed to keep all of us safe, to protect us in the best way he could think of, and that unfortunately happened to be in a cold manner at times."

"He sounds . . ." He couldn't think of a good description, so his voice trailed off.

"He suffered for years in silence, believing he was alone. Not that it excused his harshness. But we understood. In fact, when he was ready to let go of the past and move on, it's when we learned this."

"But he has her now, though, right?"

Luna stared at him for a moment before she nodded sharply. "Yes. I think he does."

"Good." He glanced back at his book. "Being alone sucks."

She smiled at him and rested a hand atop of his. "You're not alone, silly. I'm here."

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah." He then motioned back to their books. "These aren't going to read themselves. Let's get back to it, shall we?"

She turned back, reopening her book.

His eyes fell back to the sentence he had been reading for the past ten minutes. It wasn't that he wasn't comprehending it. He was. He just—it was as if there was a sort of tickle at the back of his mind that would start at the sentence. He bit back a laugh when he considered the possibility of it being one of Luna's Blibbering Humdingers or Nargles or whatever she had taught him about these past few days.

He sighed and reread the sentence again.

" _Over time, a Patronus can change if one of the three conditions are met: suffer a loss, fall in love, or their personality changes dramatically."_

There was that tickle again. Right there in the back of his mind.

He drew his wand, noticing Luna's silvery eyes darting to him curiously.

" _Expecto Patronum,"_ he murmured quietly, flicking his wand lightly. He watched the wispy animal leap from the wand tip and land atop of the table. He had expected it to be the usual doe, the same as Lily's Patronus. Yet it wasn't. He stared at it for a moment, noting the panther's curious head tilt as it stared back calmly. It was a panther now? He frowned and flicked his wand, dispelling it.

Which of the three conditions had he met?

He wasn't in love. That was obvious.

He hadn't necessarily suffered a loss. Unless one counted the fact that he couldn't recall anyone from his old life.

So, then, it had to be his personally had changed dramatically. Right?

"Everything all right?" Luna asked quietly.

He turned to her, inhaling sharply when he caught Professor Ashmore sitting across from him instead. What the hell? Where was Luna? She had been right there sitting across from him.

" _You're hiding things from me again, Severus. Don't deny it. I can see it in your eyes," Ashmore declared quietly. "Talk to me. Please."_

" _Aurora—" replied a voice deeper than his._

_She sighed heavily, snapping shut her book with an obvious frown. "Well, when you decide to let me in again, you know where to find me! Hopefully, it's not while you're bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack like last time," she growled before vanishing._

Everything then went black as his vision faded out and his body slackened.

* * *

He came to the thick stench of antiseptic filling his nostrils. He groaned as he did, slowly pushing himself up only to fall back against the cot weakly. He could hear hushed words from behind the pulled curtain and sighed, bringing up a hand to rub his temples. Merlin, his head ached.

When the curtain snapped open a moment later, he found himself wishing he was still unconscious. Pomfrey looked downright murderous for some reason.

"Good. You're awake," she snapped, pointing her wand at him.

For some reason, he had a feeling she was being extremely sarcastic.

"How are you feeling?" She then leveled him a sharp look. "And the truth this time. I mean it."

"Yes, Madam," he replied, barely holding back his wince. He hadn't seen her this riled in years.

"Well? Get on with it. Will you?"

"My head hurts," he admitted quietly.

She huffed. "Yes, I expect it does. What else?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. What did she want him to say? And why was she so damn angry with him? He hadn't done this on purpose. He hated the Hospital Wing as much as . . . someone. Someone he couldn't remember but knew it was clearly more than them.

"Miss Lovegood stated you had cast your Patronus prior to collapsing?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And?" she urged, motioning for him to continue. "What then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I looked at Luna, and it wasn't her anymore."

Pomfrey's brow raised slightly before she crossed her arms and frowned deeper. "Who was it?"

"Someone else, but it didn't make sense."

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much," the matron quipped. "Who was it?"

His eyes darted down to the blanket covering him.

"Severus."

He winced, not liking how the matron's tone was becoming increasingly angrier with him. What was he supposed to say? The truth? She'd lock him up.

"I require an answer, young man."

"It doesn't matter," he replied placatingly.

"On the contrary, I think it does matter. Now, if you'll please. Who was it?" she repeated.

He huffed, glancing upwards. "Fine. It was Professor Ashmore."

"Oh." That seemed to have cut all the sails effectively in her anger.

"But it's impossible seeing as how I've never seen her before—"

His vision cut out suddenly again, causing him to gasp sharply.

" _What?" Ashmore asked, glancing around. Her smile was playful with her eyes alight, full of warmth and love. "Do I have something on my face?"_

" _Merely that ridiculous make-up you insist on wearing that makes you look like some painted French—" the deep voice replied somewhere off to his right._

" _Oh, you love it, and you know it," she crooned, leaning towards him._

" _Hardly."_

" _Do too."_

" _I'd rather kiss Trelawney."_

" _Oh? Well then. Maybe I'll just ask Sybil—"_

" _You will do no such thing, you foolish witch!"_

Everything whooshed back suddenly as the darkness flickered on and then was replaced by the Hospital Wing again. His head felt ten times worse than before now. He groaned loudly, rubbing at his temples as he hissed his pain.

What on Earth was happening to him?

" _I love you."_

" _Severus—no! Stop!"_

His body contracted as blinding pain suddenly roared to life within him. He screamed, his back arching while he tried to escape it.

" _Miss Lovegood, what on Earth are you doing?" drawled the deep voice in the distance._

" _It's to protect us from the—"_

" _You were supposed to be brewing a Calming Draught! That's it! Not . . . this! Ugh! Is that glitter in it, Lovegood?"_

" _Yes, sir."_

" _Why—never mind. Nargles I'm sure," the voice replied tiredly._

" _Actually, sir, it was for the Blibbering Humdinger."_

" _Of course it was," muttered the voice._

_Loud laughter carried out and echoed around._

" _Enough! Fifty points from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff!"_

" _What? Why?" voices yelled in outrage. "That's ridiculous!"_

" _One hundred and fifty points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff!" growled the deep voice. "Keep it up, and it'll be two hundred."_

He gasped back to the real world, the sterile air stinging his lungs. He could feel hands on him. His eyes were clenched shut as more pain raced up his nerves. His head felt as if it was going to explode at any moment. What was going on?

" _That's not fair!" a young voice huffed._

" _Life's not fair, Jenkins!"_

" _But Loony—"_

" _Two hundred points from Hufflepuff!" the voice snarled dangerously._

" _What?! Oh, come on, Snape!"_

" _Three hundred points from Hufflepuff!"_

The real world slammed back into reality for him, ripping him from the—whatever they were. Was—was the angry voice him? Another scream tore from his throat as he was assaulted with more.

" _I heard what happened. Do you want to talk about it?" Ashmore asked quietly, approaching him from the black mist._

" _Not particularly, no."_

" _All right. What are you brewing? May I ask that at least?"_

" _Nothing," the voice ground out._

" _Severus—"_

" _Please," he softly murmured. "I am in no mood to talk currently. About anything."_

" _Fine." She sighed quietly. "I'll leave you to your pouting."_

" _Oh for the love of—I am not pouting, witch!"_

" _Sweetheart, one of these days, you'll realize that whenever you brew, you're pouting . . . or brooding. But it's always one of those two. And you brooded the first two hours. Now we're on to full pout mode obviously."_

_He huffed, swirling the silvery liquid inside the cauldron. "Is that so, Aurora?"_

" _It is."_

" _Wonderful. Then allow me to get back to—"_

" _Fine. Just don't be in here all night, all right? You have class tomorrow."_

" _I have class every day," he drawled, huffing when she gave him a quick kiss before she left. Maybe now he could get some peace and quiet for once._

He shuddered as the dream world flickered out of existence briefly. His body slackened. His throat felt raw. The hands had returned from before. And something else, something warm was with it. He was so tired. Sleep. Sleep sounded so perfect right then. Sleep.

" _What now, witch?" he sighed exasperatedly, slowly turning away from his cauldron. But it wasn't Aurora standing in the doorway. "Jenkins."_

_Bright, blinding light then exploded. He couldn't throw up a shield quick enough, though. His back slammed hard against his shelves, numerous ingredients shattering onto him. He groaned, pushing himself up to defend himself in case the brat decided to send another hex his way. As he passed his cauldron, though, he bumped into it. The action sent him sprawling down onto the floor. He was helpless as he watched the cauldron sway dangerous before it tipped over, sending the thick silvery sludge towards him._

" _Aurora," he rasped._

He was thrown back into the real world once more. His body spasmed. The dream world and the real world flickered back and forth between one another violently.

"His mind is trying to process everything at once!"

"Well, can't you do anything, Pomfrey! He's in pain!"

"Yes, Aurora. I see that!" snapped the matron who was clearly frustrated beyond all reason. "However, until I can—"

"Severus?"

His eyes darted about the room. She was there . . . and over there too? He gasped, shaking terribly as the air slowly entered his lungs.

" _Tell me a story."_

" _What?" he replied with an uncomfortable laugh._

" _You heard me. Tell me a story."_

" _You ask too much of me."_

" _Severus," she pleaded. "Please? Pretty please?"_

" _Fine. There once was a terrible, evil man who married a beautiful woman who annoyed him incessantly. His work suffered. His mood suffered. In turn, his students suffered. The end."_

_She laughed. "You're a wretched storyteller."_

" _Thank you. It's a gift," he drawled back._

" _Luna asked me today if we had picked out names yet."_

" _What?"_

" _For our future child. She's convinced it'll happen. It's merely a matter of when at this point."_

" _Did the Nargles tell her that?" he remarked dryly._

" _Hey. None of that please. Just because we can't see them doesn't mean they don't exist."_

_He glanced at her with a raised brow. "You spend entirely too much time with her. You do realize that, right?"_

" _She's a good person, Severus. Just misunderstood. Like you."_

" _I don't believe in invisible creatures," he huffed._

" _We'll make a believer of you yet. I'm certain of it."_

" _Whatever you say, Aurora."_

He found the colors swirling back. Everything was blurry. Slow even. Distorted like an old telly with a weak signal. Fuzzy even.

He was dying. He had to be. That could only be the logical explanation for all of this. He coughed, feeling the loving hands grasping his face again. He couldn't see her, but he knew it was Aurora. His eyes fluttered silently.

" _Blibbering Humdingers. Pesky creatures."_

It flashed again back to the real world. His eyes rolled backwards before he was thrown back.

" _They're rumored to enter a person's mind and watch their memories. They, however, get overwhelmed easily. So, while it may start out as a simple flashback, it can quickly become a rapid assault of memories. Eventually, the human mind can't take it."_

Yeah. Yeah he was pretty sure that was what he thought. He tried to empty his mind again, fighting against the pain, the . . .

" _The only way to really get rid of them is glitter. Or so Father says at least. It's why I added the glitter to my potion, sir. I believe we have one here at Hogwarts."_

When he felt the return, he coughed and shuddered.

"Blibber Hmingers," he mumbled, moaning as his head roared its pain. It took everything in him to get the words out, knowing he had to get it out if he wanted to live.

"What?"

"Blibhminger," he repeated, his words slurring together.

"Is he saying . . ."

"Oh, Circe above!" Aurora cried, understanding him somehow. "Glitter! Of course!"

He was too weak to smile in pride. He then felt the irritating items sprinkle down on him. He coughed as a few speckles ended up being inhaled. However, the pain in his head slowly moved towards an ear, his left he thought, before it vanished entirely.

"What is that?" Pomfrey asked utterly horrified a few beats later.

"A Blibbering Humdinger, I believe," Aurora replied in amazement.

He groaned weakly, his body sagging against the cot. Sometimes he hated his life.

* * *

When he came to the next afternoon, he found himself much stronger than before, but still very much adolescent-shaped. He drew in a breath, wincing as he rolled over. He snorted when he saw the curly-haired witch sleeping in a chair beside him. No doubt she had remained at his bedside all night.

He watched her as she slowly woke up, likely sensing his staring. He gave her a faint smile when she instantly sat up straighter in surprise.

"Severus?"

"Yes."

She sighed in relief and shook her head. She then blinked and glanced down guiltily.

"I know who you are, Aurora," he remarked. "I remember everything, including my true age."

Wincing, she glanced back at him with a raised brow. "Everything?"

"Jenkins attacked me. When I went to chase after him, I knocked over my potion."

"Ah." She nodded slowly. "He's been expelled naturally."

He had assumed as much. "I only have one question, though." He waited until she looked back at him. "Why did you let Dumbledore go through that farce of re-sorting me?"

"Oh, trust me. Minerva and I were wholeheartedly against it. He didn't care. He wanted to fix his mistakes. Or some such crap like that," she huffed.

"You could have told me something."

"No. I couldn't. We were operating on you having suffered a traumatic event. We didn't want to make it worse."

"I've suffered worse."

"I know, but—"

He cut her off, though. "You told Lovegood to watch me, didn't you?"

"No."

"Really?" He'd believe that when pigs flew.

"Really. She came up with that on her own. Because she didn't want me to feel sad about losing you again. Or something like that." She then sighed. "Honestly, I only half-listened to her."

He snorted.

"You tried staying away, though."

"Well, of course I did." She rolled her eyes. "I'd have broken down long ago."

"Except that day in the library, that was."

She huffed, glancing away from him. "You were eyeing the Restricted Section like a piece of meat. As a professor, I have a—"

"You were worried I would resort to my old ways," he cut in.

"No."

"Yes."

"Severus, I was not. Honest. I just didn't want you to do something foolish."

"When have I ever—" He then sighed heavily. "On second thought, don't answer that." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Ashmore, though?" he remarked, glancing back at her.

"Well, I could hardly go by Sinistra-Snape, now could I?"

"Fair enough." He stretched his neck, wincing at the brief flicker of pain. "Do you think we'll ever have a normal year?"

"At Hogwarts?" She laughed. "Yeah. Not likely."


End file.
